What I’m waiting for

4 Nov

My grasp on time is slowly slipping away, as the days pass they begin to seem to blur into one. Differentiating between what happened yesterday and what happened 5 days ago can seem impossible most of the time. My days are taken up by the same thoughts, struggles and uncertainties that make me consider how I do it repeatedly, continue to wake up, continue to live a life that I’m not happy with, continue to live in general. Did I really do it again? Did I put myself back in a box and rebuild the walls after I had gone to such painstaking lengths to dismantle them? I trapped myself in and now it seems as though I am waiting for something although I’m not entirely sure what that is. I play around with the idea of permission but that doesn’t feel quite right. I think it’s possible though that what I am waiting for and what I’ve always been waiting for is the day that I wake up and find that my head is quiet. The Anorexia is gone, stripped away in the night.I’m waiting for the day that something or someone says to me that I can stop now. I’m allowed. It’s going to be OK. I don’t have to do this anymore. I can get off. I can stop the cycle of recovery and relapse. I can stop striving for a body and a number that never seems to stop getting lower. I need someone to tell me that I’m allowed to let myself be free, that whatever punishment I keep trying to inflict on myself has gone far enough now, I have no more sins that I have to make up for, no more apologies that I need to hand out. That person doesn’t really exist though because that person is probably Anorexia itself if we personify it and I suppose what I really want/need to hear from it is “You’ve done what I’ve asked, you’ve paid the price, you’ve stood should to shoulder with me long enough and done the time that I needed you to do. You can go now and I will let you go. I will not put up anymore fights or protests. The door is open, walk through it”. If only it was that simple. If only the disorder was that forgiving and understanding.

This morning, after longer than I should have left it, I went to see my doctor. There was the acknowledgement that yes everything is slowing down and that I am not in the best place at the moment. We talked for a while, he reiterating himself a few times in the assertion that I am not a failure for struggling like this. He so genuinely wants to fix things whilst keeping the the power within my hands and a toy with the idea of wanting this to be over, to be well and yet fear has kept me saying no to this suggestions. I am afraid and I feel hopeless and luckily I don’t need to articulate that for him to get it because he just does. Ultimately want he wants is me to have longer term therapy and also he wants to refer me back again to the eating disorder unit for outpatient support. I eventually said yes to the first but still no to the second. I can’t quite seem to bring myself to be able to go back there, to that way of being, the weigh ins and the meal plans and the talking about what I can and can’t eat. So he’s going to do the referral for the therapy, I have to go back and see him in two weeks, I also have to think about whether I will let him refer me to the ED services and also get my bloods done.

I can’t unravel any further. It’s not an ideal time.

I hope your day is kind to you.

Options 1, 2 and 3

29 Oct

Last night I sat and watched a documentary on Eating Disorders. I listened to men and women talk about how they lost themselves to their disorders and in the end how they found themselves again. All but one seemed to be either firmly in recovery or considered themselves to be completely recovered. These individuals were from the generation prior to mine and I suppose it was nice to see that after all that lost time they had, they were living lives which were now good for them. It should have been inspiring but I think at the moment, I am too passed being inspired or too tired for it. However that ‘one’ who still lives in the grip of her illness continues to haunt me. She is everything I don’t want to be. A woman who in her 50’s still cannot see clearly enough to find a way out once and for all. I imagine she is one of the 20 odd % in the UK which you could say was chronically unwell. The idea of being in the position of saying to someone I have struggled with my Anorexia for 40+ years fills me with terror. The thing is though it is so easily done. Time just slips away, doesn’t it? One minute your 15 and everything hurts and everything is chaos but it’s fine because Anorexia is just passing storm, not something that will still be around when you actually become an adult. Then you are an adult or at least the beginnings of an adult and you can’t quite figure out how that happened. It’s like you blinked and the years flew by. I suppose what I am saying is that I am very aware lately that I can’t keep continuing to waste time on this disorder because sooner or later, I’m going to look up and my entire life will be gone and all I will have is this….Anorexia….a number on a scale that means everything and nothing and proves bugger all.

I can carry on with this. I can continue to push my body and expect it to still marginally function which to an extent, I’m sure it will. I can let it carry on doing the damage that it is doing to my brain which is arguably worse than what it is doing to my body because there is nothing I can do to soothe that. I have to just kind of sit back and watch as my thoughts tear me apart emotionally, rendering my socially inept. In short, I can muddle through life, permanently terrified, depressed, anxious, lying to people and finding that the only thing I can bear but also can’t is being alone.


I could just end it now. I think about living like this, with this heaviness inside of me that feels as though I can’t escape and it brings me to my knees. I don’t even want to imagine what loosing the next 10 or 20 years of my life to this would look like. I could make it stop. I could put suicide back on the table. It would hurt a lot of people, I know that but also maybe they too could find some peace in the cycle of restoration and relapse which it is beginning to seem that all my life is. The flaw in this one though is that I don’t really want to die.


I could try again. Figure out where I am supposed to get some energy from and go after Anorexia for what feels like the millionth time. Chase it out of my life rather than it chasing me. I could fight it and not listen to it and break all of it’s stupid rules. I could eat and restore weight and not give a damn and listen to that voice that knows – and I mean knows – that my size or shape doesn’t mean a thing. I could recover and find that it is amazing to not have the noise in my head which continually tells me to hate everything that I am.

Those are my options and even though option 2 is as I’ve pointed out flawed, I’m really not sure which option is the most likely at the moment. I want it to be 3 but something is standing in my way and I’m pretty sure that something is me. I have no idea how to get around that…around me. It is not supposed to be this difficult.

I hope your day has been good to you.



23 Oct

It’s hitting me that things can’t carry on the way that they have been. I can’t keep continuing to let myself become weaker and more pliable in the hands of the eating disorder. Where did my inspiration go? Where did my hope go? Was it so precarious that the slightest bit of a breeze could extinguish it once and for all? Has it really gone and am I just this? It feels like it but then in my heart of hearts, I don’t want to accept it. I don’t think anybody really does, not when they still want to be here, in life. You know I think about the first time I became really unwell with the disorder and my whole world was so different to what it is now. Back then I didn’t want to be alive, I had made it so that I had nothing to live for and the only thing that mattered was starving myself into some sort of weird oblivion. I wasn’t careful with my body, I didn’t care what state I pushed it into because all it felt like I was doing or hoping was for it to fail. If I was doing things to make that happen faster than that felt acceptable. Of course it wasn’t…

And that my friends is where the difference lies.

I know now that it wasn’t acceptable. This whole thing is different because I am not some suicidal kid trying to find oblivion anymore. I am not curious to see how far I can push my body without toppling over the edge. I have no desire to even be within a 100 metres of that edge. Everything at the moment is a balancing act of what I can tolerate in regards to intake and making sure that I have the energy to keep my organs functioning and me not passing out. It’s not always simple. It should be. I can be rushing round late one afternoon and my entire world is spinning, there are black dots in my field of vision and it’s taking everything I have to stay stood up. My blood pressure is too low or my sugars are crashing and I know that all I have to do is to drink something at the very least but food would probably be better and I just can’t. I have this full blown battle going on between my logical side and the eating disorder side that drains me and I bet you can guess which side wins 98% of the time? As I said though I don’t want my body to fail on me. I need it. I need it to work well so I can do the things that I want to do which admittedly at the moment only includes studying but still. My brain needs to work for that and it’s not doing so in the way that it should at the moment. There is too much fog drifting around in there.

Of course I have reduced the Anorexia down to the physical element. It is so much simpler to talk about the effect that this disorder is currently having on my body even though admittedly that is probably not the most important thing in the grand scheme of things. The other aspect though feels raw and painful, as though if I poke at it too much things may come toppling down. There is little room for anything else lately in my mind. I try to concentrate on something else, anything else and within minutes my attention is being dragged back to it. The rules dominate me, as do my lists, as does the depression and the anxiety. I feel hollowed out most of the time and there is this exterior that I have which isn’t real but has to be real enough so nobody sees that underneath it all there isn’t very much.

So what do I do?

I have no energy to fight. I can’t carry on the way that I am. I’m tired all the time. Sometimes the sadness is so overwhelming that I can’t breathe properly and I know, I do know that none of this is going to change unless I do something about it. You know how I justify all of this though, with the words “but I’m still eating”. It’s not a justification. I know that. Stopping eating entirely has never been a real option, that weakens your body at such a rate that within weeks I’d find myself on some medical ward after collapsing or something. That by far would be the worst possible outcome for me. I’m not sure I can go back to being a shell, lying in a hospital bed and finding that my life has come to a dizzying halt. I always thought that when you have options you don’t like, you find a new option but in this I don’t think there is one. Sometimes I get this thought in my head that maybe it would have been better if I’d have just never made it through the time before. Maybe then it would be more certainly over but thankfully those thoughts are fleeting and I don’t really believe them. For as hard as this is, I am relieved that I am still here. I have no desire to check out of life anymore and I’m pretty sure that it’s never going to get to that point again, but then I didn’t think I’d be here again either. I realise that I need to find an answer sooner or later though because eventually, not now and certainly not for a while but it will get to a point where I will be forced to do something and I know that that is going to feel worse. I wish it was gone. I wish I was whole already. I wish I’d never even known this battle to begin with. I should have stopped so many times before. I could have you know…back before it blew up. I could have just stopped being stubborn and opened my mouth and it would never have gotten out of control. Yet that kind of wishful thinking is not helpful anymore.

So I am here. Knackered, terrified, sad or empty. There has to be more to life than this. There just has to be.

I hope your day has been kind to you.

The Dis and Ad vantages

17 Oct

Yesterday I officially hit my late twenties. It was an OK day. Nobody made me push harder than I was capable of and for that I was more grateful than anything else. I managed to pull myself out of the sadness which had left me hiding out in my house for the latter part of last week. Today I woke up and the sadness is back, a quiet roar somewhere in the centre of my chest that is faltering and I wonder if it will get to the point where even that roar will give up the hope that I will have the energy to pay attention to it. I guess you could say that I am almost contemplative as well and I think that that is something that is common when you have a birthday. You start to assess the life that you have been living and when you find that it is making you unhappy or that you are stuck, you make plans to change it. If you’d have told me 10 years ago that as I get closer to 30, I would still be living with an Eating Disorder, I would have laughed at the ridiculousness of it. It would have been an unthinkable thought even though at the time, I had no belief in the notion of the possibility of recovery. I suppose I figured to some extent that I would essentially grow up and naively grow out of it. One day it just wouldn’t matter anymore and therefore I would give it up without a second thought, start eating the way that everyone around me seems to be able to do and accept that this body I am living in is all that I have, therefore all that would matter is that it was healthy. That’s how it was supposed to go…

I often come back to this thought about change though of do I still want to? Forget about how much energy and work it will take, forget about the anxiety and the fear, if I could just turn it off, would I? It is an easy question because yes of course I would. I get nothing from it to want to keep it. I hate having it inside of me, taking over inch by inch of my brain, my body and I suppose my soul. Is it just that apathy then that seems to have settled in my bones that makes the idea of recovery so unappealing? Here’s the problem when you’ve already tried recovery a few times, you know what it will take from you and that has both advantages and disadvantages. The advantages are that you know what to expect, you expect the pain of refeeding, the odd sensations that will take over your body, the onset of puberty yet again(!) and the insomnia and the exhaustion. You expect the bad days but you also expect the good days, when the body is healing, when it runs longer and faster than you can remember, when you laugh real laughs or experience a triumph. The disadvantages though is that you know how much effort you have to put in everyday, without fail, you know that no matter how hard you push sometimes it just won’t click, you know about the pain, the tiredness, the fear and the horror and sense of being paralysed as your body changes right in front of your eyes and you can not go back to changing the thing you have spent years hating. You also know that no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you give, sometimes it just doesn’t work and you fail and then you have to do it all over again. The repetition feels tedious and horrific at the same time, then the hopelessness settles in. Maybe it’s the anorexic voice gently instilling in you the thoughts that you have told yourself for so long, that you are nothing, a waste of space and delusional to believe that you could ever be free. It whispers “why try…?” and that’s when you realise that you have no idea why anymore because all the reasons you had before no longer seem that important.

Of course as I write this, I realise I am making excuses for the relapse. I am trying to justify something in my mind that I thought was unjustifiable. I thought I was done with giving up years ago. Yet here I am again, not quite giving up but not quite going either. Just here I guess.

I hope your day has been good to you.

Not Over

10 Oct

My world at the moment is me feeling like I am constantly collapsing in on myself. Sometimes I get this brief moment where there is this thought that potentially it has stopped, there is a silence, there is an easier breath or a fleeting smile and I think maybe…maybe the storm has run it’s course, maybe it’s over now. It lasts for about 5 seconds and then it is gone, drained quicker than water held in human hands. With that realisation comes a pain that is crushing and the only way I know how to deal with it is to shut down, shut down my emotions, shut down my thoughts, shut down all that I have ever known or been told or learnt. I do not fear that I’m not going to get out of this in one piece, I think what I am is curious in a way, will she? won’t she? as though I am a casual observer who is not that invested in the story. I guess you could say I am somewhat removed from the situation. I don’t know what’s worse though when I think about it, the absence of myself or the complete visceral hate that overwhelms me when I consider myself, my body, the words that I speak or the things that I do. At least with the hate I am present, there is something beyond the blanking sadness, there is fire in the heart at the very least. Not pleasant admittedly but at least I know that underneath it all there is still a person.

Recovery is sliding further and further away from me and I am telling more and more lies in order to protect it. I go halfway, admit as far as I’ve always admitted that it’s been a struggle but that’s it. I don’t talk about this new way of being or I suppose old way of being. I do not explain that when I think of food, I am thinking I would rather be putting needles into every inch of my skin. I do not explain the fear or the illogical rationals that baffle even me. I do not talk about the hours of my days that I spend adding and subtracting, weighing and altering and tweaking and always always feeling like I am a failure. That’s part of the problem with relapse, that sense of being a failure in whatever you do is so ridiculously acute. You are failing the disorder to eat outside it’s rules or you are failing in recovery when you listen to those rules. I wish I could make anorexia as removed and as quiet and distant as I can make everybody else.

I’m not sure where this is all leading. I had my first appointment with the community mental health team today and she asked me about the eating disorder, she asked me would I know when it was time to be re-referred to the eating disorder unit. I didn’t know how to answer because I don’t know. She then asked me what I was afraid of about it and it wasn’t so much that I am afraid, it is that I do not have the energy to go through the process again, the refeeding, the weighing, the constant expectation to keep challenging things. I can’t do it again. She said something about inpatient which I said was never going to happen again, no matter what my weight gets to. We went through what my diet currently looks like but again I refused to tell her my current weight. She doesn’t need to know but we differed on opinion on that assessment. We talked about what it was that I wanted to work on with her and I again I came up blank, the truth is which I told her, I don’t think she can help so I wasn’t sure exactly why I was there. There were some other points covered but in truth I can’t really remember much of them. She seems perfectly nice but I have a feeling that it’s not going to make much of a difference. The plan is to work on anxiety management for now, some psycho-education which I’m pretty sure I’ll have heard a million times before but it gives her a focus. Right now I’m not even sure I want to go back and see her again, although thankfully she is on leave for the next 3 weeks so at least a bit of reprieve. I’m supposed to go see my GP in the meantime so that essentially someone is keeping an eye on me. It all feels a little ridiculous and I can’t help but think that I am just wasting everybody’s time.

I don’t have an end game in mind right now. There isn’t some weight that I am hoping to get to with the belief that once I arrive there everything will be fine. This is not a focused mission of self destruction either. People keep asking me was there a trigger, did something happen and all I can say is no, nothing happened, it just happened. It always just happens and then I have no idea how to stop it. It’s different this time and it’s odd so I don’t know how it plays out this time. I’m just hoping that I don’t completely screw everything in the process.

I hope your day has been kind to you.


7 Oct

This morning my brain worked with me. I got that spark, that buzzing energy that comes when you have all these thoughts spilling out of you and one idea leads to another. It was wonderful to experience that when for so long things have just been bland and empty. I had a meeting with my dissertation supervisor to discuss obviously my dissertation. It went well and the hour flew by. There is so much work to do, so much to think about and yes it is a daunting undertaking but I am looking forward to it. I have been slightly concerned as are most people who know that I am knee deep in a relapse about the impact this year is going to have on me but that dissipated today somewhat. I know I can do this now. I know I won’t let my own mess become tangled up in what I have to do. For those of you who don’t know my chosen topic is around Eating Disorder Recovery so that gives you at little bit of context for the anxiety but it should be OK. My supervisor is aware of things to an extent. I had to tell him when I saw him last week because he has a responsibility in regards to my welfare and I didn’t want to put him in an awkward position. There was basically a lot of me saying, this is happening but I am fine. I lost count of the number of times I said the word fine. He did say today that he was really worried about it, me…but I think or I hope that worry has been eased a little. I don’t like being worried about, I’m not a fan of how exposed it makes me feel and probably accountable. I think it creates this expectation that you have to do something to make them feel better about the situation and that means reengaging in recovery or lying. I’m not in the position where I can make that commitment to engage. Despite how amazing this morning was, there is nothing in me that makes me think that I can do it. There is nothing that makes me think that I want to do. I get that that is a really shitty thing to say. The grip of Anorexia gets tighter everyday and in truth the only thing that I am capable of doing to an extent is stopping it get any worse. All I can do is stop myself from going to that place of complete starvation. I just can’t make myself find the energy to move forward. I’m not sure what that’s about.

We all know Eating Disorders serve a range of purposes. They mean different things to different people and that can change all the time. It might mean one thing one day and the next it could mean something else. I’m not sure what the purpose of Anorexia is this time. The only thing that I can logically suggest is that maybe it has become so ingrained and rooted in how I function and live that to do the opposite it feels unnatural and requires a persistent level of effort that I don’t always have. Even to me that sounds like a bit of a cop out though. Of course I would love to wake up and it’s all gone. The anxiety and fears, the second guessing and the panic, the messed up beliefs and sabotage attempts of my mind to think of multiples of reasons why I can’t eat x, y or z. Sometimes I think if I could just go back, even to 6 years ago and make myself pay attention, to stop what I was doing then maybe everything would have been simpler. I know the wishful thinking will not get me anywhere though. I know the only way to change anything is to actually change. I really just can’t. There are days when I wake up thinking I will challenge something…anything and when it comes to it, I don’t. Fear wins every time and I do not have the strength to make myself rise up above it. I guess I’m simply a weak person. The only thing that is good for me right now is Uni, is my classes, is filling my head up with as much academic content as I can so I don’t have to think about this. It’s wrong and probably won’t lead anywhere good but it’s all I have right now.

Do Not Fear Recovery

3 Oct

Recovery is a big thing. It is turning the life that you have known for however long completely upside down. It’s unlearning and relearning things that most people have figured out by the time they have stepped out of that time we call childhood. There are so many things that it holds that as much as you want to, you can’t prepare for. It is stepping into an unknown land and not knowing if what you will find there is something you want. The process will be brutal and to some extent you may already have an idea of that, but the reality is something that could be worse. Recovery is terrifying, frightening, paralysing and a whole range of other words which pretty much sum up the same thing. However if I have learnt one thing throughout the last few years of being in and out of recovery, it is this: Do not be afraid of it.

Yes it will change your life and yes it will hurt. Recovery is neither pretty nor pleasant. In the beginning it is ugly, physically and mentally it breaks you, then as time goes by, as your body heals, it continues to beat against you mentally and emotionally. Yet I tell you not to be afraid of it because recovery is a transient state, it is not permanent, it will not be so intolerable forever. Living with the illness though, that is something to fear. It stops everything and I don’t just mean that eventually it stops your organs from functioning or your brain from being able to think clearly or rationally. I mean it stops those things that make up who you are. Those quirks to your personalities, your ambitions, desires and motivations fade into the background, until you no longer know if they were ever real or just a figment of your imagination. In time it won’t even matter because you just won’t care. That apathy is also something to fear, it is apathy not hate that will kill you when it comes to this disorder. As it gets towards the end, there is no energy for hate, not even for yourself anymore.

If you must fear something, fear not getting out, fear spending every second that you have left on earth living with this thing of inside of you, fear losing, fear not having the life that you dreamed on having when you were kid.

Do not, I beg of you, fear the thing that will save you. Do not fear the thing that will bring you back. Do not fear recovery.

I hope your day has been kind to you.

If I was trying…

1 Oct

I thought about starting this post with the words that I am trying, but let’s be brutal here, I’m not trying. If I was trying then maybe things wouldn’t have gone to shit again. If I was trying I wouldn’t be telling lies or hiding or avoiding the people in my life. If I was trying I would care enough to do something about this damn situation. If I was trying I would accept the help that people seem to want to give me. If I was trying then I might stand a chance. But I’m not and the only excuse I have for why I am not is that I am tired. I am tired and that’s it. I could think of some other words that I may expect myself to be, such as frustrated or angry or heartbroken but they don’t seem to apply anymore. I am simply tired.

I attempted to figure out today when all of this happened and I couldn’t. The problem with this disorder is that it is so quiet and insidious that you don’t even realise that it’s encased you again until there seems to be no chance of escape, until it is undeniably screaming in your face. Sometimes I wonder that even if I did get through this, if by some miracle I found some renewed energy to try, will this backwards and forwards all my life ever be? This sense of management and failures and not knowing what the point is. I know there is more to life than this. I know that a number on a scale doesn’t mean shit, and that my worth is not dependant on either my shape or size. I know there is no safety in Anorexia, no answers or logic or hope. I also know that it will not make my happy. I know that no matter what weight I get to, I still won’t be enough and I will continue to be too much. There is more beyond this disorder, there is friends and family, there is a future and a life, there is laughter and falling in and out of love. There are birthdays and celebrations and triumphs. There are mountains to climb and countries to visit and people to help. I know all this exists once outside the reach of Anorexia’s grip but it is that grip that I cannot wiggle free from and that my friends is what makes me so very tired. The expectation to live for all that is great in this world and the inability to rise up and meet it.

I hope your day has been kind to you.


You win some, you lose some

29 Sep

I have spent most of the day trying to get some work done and for the most part it’s been fairly successful. I restarted a book on Social Constructionism which for the third year running is on my reading list. I seem to always get halfway through and abandon it but this time I am determined the finish the entire thing! I also started reading through my notes and trying to have some decent thoughts in regard to my dissertation. I feel mostly daunted by the whole process and what the year will bring but I don’t think I’m alone in that. Most third years are going to feel the pressure at some point and the fact that I have stupid high expectations just adds a touch more to it. I don’t want to just pass, I’m aiming for a 1st because that has been all that I have gotten (except for one paper) in everything that I have written in since I started studying. It would hurt to get anything less than that. This afternoon I had a workshop to go to about the dissertation and I suppose this is where my win of the day comes in. I actually talked to people. I interacted like a normal human being which shouldn’t be hard but at the moment it is. It was made easier because they mostly talked about their summers and what they have coming up. I nodded and smiled in all the right places. I’m not going to lie, it was knackering but it made me step out of this bubble that I’ve put myself in, even if just for a while. Logically I know that that is a good thing even if it doesn’t feel like it.

The lose though was of course about food. The fear is mounting and so today I thought I should challenge something. It is something that I used to consider safe, that I ate everyday and nutritionally is pretty nonthreatening. I planned to do it at lunchtime, I was ready and I was feeling capable. Lunchtime came and so I prepped what I was having, putting the challenge food on a separate plate and sat down to eat. I got through the meal that I made relatively in one piece and then came the challenge…and I just couldn’t. It sat and stared at me and I stared back, feeling myself crumbling into pieces as more time passed. I had so many thoughts crashing through my mind from “I don’t know what that will do to my body” to “something bad will happen if I eat that” needless to say I lost the most important thought amongst all that, which was the thought that I could do it. After 20 minutes, I knew it wasn’t going to happen. I threw it out, too scared to even touch it with my hands and then did the dishes. It was so pathetic. I have to decide whether to try again tomorrow and I honestly don’t know if I can. I was alone today and so I used that as an excuse, that if something bad did happen then no one would be around to help. Yet I know that if I was to be with other people who don’t know about these fears then I would feel like an idiot and wouldn’t want to do it in front of them because then I’d have to pretend that I was fine and not about to have a panic attack. I wouldn’t want them to see me unravelling or that food still has this much power over me. The final option would be to do it with people who get this but there are so few and possibly only a couple who know the true extent. Of course I  then go back to thinking what’s the point? Why am I even trying? I don’t need variety. I think the truth is as more things leave my diet, I’m a little concerned that eventually I will be down to very few items that I can tolerate. I know that that is not a sustainable way to live and as powerful as this disorder is right now, as shit as  I feel all the time, I still need to live and be able to.

Mixed day but it’s fine because there was some productivity in there.

I hope your day has been good to you.

Classes have resumed

28 Sep

I keep expecting to wake up and find that my world has righted itself in the night. I expect for things to go back to how they were when although they may not have been brilliant, they were fine. Instead I wake up each morning and it feels worse than the day before. Another dip in my mood, another thing to be anxious about, another food that has been dropped from the allowable list. If I didn’t know better than I would think that there can’t be much further to fall, but I do know better and I know that pit that I’m sliding down into is actually endless.

Yesterday was my first real day back at Uni. I have been looking forward to it, getting back to some sort of normality and structure for me but goodness it was hard. By the end of the day all I could wonder was how the hell am I going to get through this year. It looked something like this:

  • Wake up after barely sleeping throughout the night
  • Force myself to get ready and to have breakfast
  • Walk to campus and into class
  • Avoid conversation, eye contact and sit at the back discreetly
  • Go to the library then struggle through a lunch that made me feel like I was choking
  • Back to another class, avoid conversation, eye contact and feel exhausted from saying one sentence out loud
  • Go home, cry, fall into some sort of nap that I kept waking up from every 5 minutes
  • Pick my brother up from the other side of the city to take him to his class, wait, take him home, come home myself

I was so tired by the end of it, near broken and it was just one day! I felt uncomfortable the entire time as I tried to manoeuvre my way around all the freshers and society stalls. Too much which translated into me being too much.

Today wasn’t much better. The only thing I had to do was go to a meeting with my personal tutor to discuss my plans for my dissertation. My subject that I decided pre-summer and I guess pre-relapse is centred around Eating Disorders and Recovery. Despite all that’s going on, I still want to do it because I think it could turn out to be a really good piece of work, even if it does shatter me in the process. My tutor told me that I had to be aware of some things, one of them being how I emotionally handle the process. I was honest against my better judgement and said that this project may be a little harder than I thought it was going to be now. He’s aware of my history and everything, so I said very clumsily that things are not great yet I’m fine but some professional help is being put in to place in regards to my mood but I declined the Eating Disorder service help. It felt very awkward and I am largely inarticulate lately. As soon as I said anything I regretted it…not because of his reaction as he’s lovely but I felt too exposed. The thing is I felt I had to be truthful because I am aware he has a responsibility within this and I am not prepared to lie to him and put him in a difficult position. I don’t want to talk to him about it or me or any emotional stuff though, he just needs to be kept in the loop as to how things are. He did for a moment look unsure and slightly panicked but I told him not to be because ultimately working on this project is my choice. We then got kicked out of the room we were in by the next class so left it quite awkwardly and as soon as I walked away, I felt like shit and wanted to take it back. He wants to meet next week and I can’t avoid him because he is my tutor and also my dissertation supervisor. It’s going to be a challenging year I think and all I want is to get through it, get my work done, get my degree and do it all as invisibly as possible. I don’t want people to see me like this.

I do realise that lately I have been using this space to essentially moan about everything and I want to apologise for that. I keep thinking I should write something that has some meaning to it, something I can get behind and believe in again in regards to recovery but I’m just not there. That inspiration in myself is lacking and so is the energy to fake it for you guys. So I am sorry, unfortunately I guess this is an unwanted but a realistic part of recovery, the bit where it all gets blown up and you have to figure out if you can survive it, if you know enough and have learnt enough to be not give in entirely. At this point, I don’t know.

I hope your day has been kind to you.


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